First, Last, and -
by frozeneyes
Summary: WIP. Post CA:CW, Post AoS:TPS, Natasha needs to step away. Clint wants his partner back. Bobbi might be the one sweeping up the mess. Please remember to Read & Review. Thank You.
1. 1: A Little Distant

Agent Barton was perched on a stool reading something, relaxed and on alert simultaneously. It was like one half 'I don't give a fuck' and the other half was saying 'I give ALL the fucks'. The blonde let out a slow puff of breath from her cheeks as she poured the second cup of caffeine and returned the scalding pot to the warmer. She picked up the mugs sauntering over to the Hawk's temporary perch in the loft.

The aroma of coffee warmed and filled his nose as a mug appeared in front of Clint, obscuring his view of the files in his hand and the flash of red in the picture paperclipped to them. "Java, Loser." Bobbi said waiting. Clint glanced up at the long, lean blonde before smiling, taking the mug in his free hand.

"Gracias." He said watching her pad barefoot over to an overstuffed beanbag chair and settle herself with a throw and a magazine.

"What's with the sour puss?" He asked her curiously. She shrugged the one shoulder poking out of the frayed too-big tee covering a bralette and a pair of cotton shorts.

"No lemons here, Chief. Just trying to wake and caffeinate, you know how it is." She offered as Clint continued to watch her.

"Uh Huh." He said before sipping some of the coffee. Just the way he liked it. She was full of bull, but he wouldn't call her on it because she usually came around eventually.

"You miss your old team, that it?" He asked. She sucked on her lower lip, eyes far away and shrugged. He nodded. "Yeah me too." He said as if they both believed that was the reason for her sulky look.

She was so easy to read, even when she was conning or spying, Morse always had this fire lighting up her eyes. She was a feisty one. All Fire compared to the icy masks Nat wore regularly. She might be red, but she was more hardened ice than a flickering flame.

"You know... you're not going to find her til she's ready, right?" Bobbi offered suddenly. "Either she'll be done with some gig or she'll decide to pretend and make with the whole 'social' thing. But probably not before that..."

Clint closed the folder and tossed it on the table. A lot of this had been redacted, but it had brought some new information to light. Filled in a couple plot holes for him. Stuff that predated his decision to make "a different call". He lifted his eyes to the leggy, sunkissed blonde and raised his brows at her.

"I'm just sayin'." Bobbi offered removing the slight bite from her tone. "She's obviously got her claws hooked in something this time... and its probably big if she's not checking in with you... she ALWAYS checks in with you."

/

Being up North was always strangely nostalgic of a past Natasha periodically pretended was nothing better than a bad dream from another life. Which in this day and age it practically was.

Natasha watched the snow sweep down over the mountains in sheets and flurries thanks to the aggressive wind beyond the double paned glass. The builder of the cabin had put in some upgrades, probably thanks to her suggestions in the past... She would try not to chuck out the 'I told you so's'. She was sure he was trying to forget why sections of log and brick looked newer in some places than others.

The gruff 'man' glanced over his brawny shoulder from where he squatted before the fireplace. He had been adding a few more logs and poking at the embers absentmindedly. After lighting a fresh cigar, he closed the grate around the healthy fire burning behind it, and rose from the hardwood floor.

"Wipe that smirk off your face, would ya?" Logan said gruffly as he headed to the open kitchen area of the log cabin, Natasha did no such thing as she followed him, the barest hint of amusement on her lips.

"There's nothing wrong with a little maintenance, Маленький дядя." (Russian: Little Uncle) She said joining him as he stirred a hearty looking stew simmering on the stove. Elk meat, potatoes, carrots, other odds and ends. It smelled pretty perfect actually. "Westchester's made you quite the domestic, hasn't it?" She teased.

He grunted and let out a puff of smoke as he pretended to nudge her to grab at the pepper shaker. "Yeah well, better than chasing ghosts, I suppose." He grumbled. "Teach some kids to pull their heads outta their asses and look around once in awhile."

"They're lucky to have you." Nat said leaning into his side and laying her head against him as he acted like he hadn't noticed her there.

"Well now you're just flat out full of shit, Tash." He grunted as he returned the lid and turned down the heat. He rustled her red mane like she was still some little kid before he headed over and settled back into a broke-ass old recliner he refused to replace or get rid of because nothing else was as comfortable.

He tapped some ash into a tray on the table before picking up a battered old sketch book. "Why aren't you with the Archer like you usually are?" He asked around the stogey as he began to run a pencil over the paper while she pawed through his poor excuse for a bar before going to the ice box to retrieve the vodka that only lived there for when he had unwelcomed visitors.

"Needed a minute to myself." She said opening the bottle and grabbing two glasses, of course his was filled with bourbon and hers was a lot less colorful. She did less mixing in his house and more straight drinking. Judgement free zone. Teasing aside.

"From the Hawk?" Logan asked skeptically around the wet end of the cigar, his brow rising in challenge at her. What was he? Born yesterday?

"No. Not him. Just..." She set his glass on the table beside him. "... everything else around us." She sat down across from him on an old worn down couch buried in blankets, furs, and ancient pillows. She nestled the chilly bottle between her knees as she folded herself up and threw back her glass savoring the sensation of it on her tongue. She was freshly showered and swimming in one of his flannels and a pair of boot socks that were too big on her. She liked the feeling of him and his scent on everything. Neither would EVER admit it... probably not even on pain of death, but they had sort of become family to each other. Like a Father, or just her very grouchy badass of an Uncle. They didn't share that they knew each other, they didn't even really enter each other's worlds unless forced. They always met on neutral grounds, like this remote Canadian locale where their other lives were left outside with the storm... except for that silver arrow dancing over her throat like some kind of beacon in the dim light of the fire.

"Coulda brought him." Logan said like he didn't give a shit. "I have other places I can be." He scribbled her outline and the couch that wanted to swallow her up, as if she was ever that small or fragile. Sometimes she seemed that way to him, but he knew better. The world hardened her just like it did the rest of them.

"Maybe you do, but this place doesn't have the right vantage points for him." She mused pouring herself another drink. "Ceilings aren't high enough."

Logan snorted practically. "Some of us don't like heights."

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	2. 2: Really Pulls the Team Together

"Hey Countryman. Lend me your ears." Stark said standing in-front of Barton as Clint began removing one hearing aid and then the other.

"There's nothing wrong with the ones I already have, Tony." Barton said as Tony opened a small sleek case with some very small, seemingly lightweight replacements inside. Clint looked incredibly skeptical and he felt a little naked without the pair in that he was used to.

"Maybe not technically, but these don't need the batteries replaced constantly." Stark said as he began fitting one to Clint's left ear while the Hawk continued to frown. "And lets not forget it's less likely these will get somehow demolished in the field."

Clint kept still as Tony moved to his other side. He wouldn't have heard him if he hadn't already turned the first one on. It was different than what he was used to. Kind of like internal surround sound. "No. They'll just fall out instead. Probably get stepped on or buried under whatever rubble we end up being responsible for."

"Ye of little faith." Tony said initiating the second tiny device, watching Barton blink as he attempted to adjust to the difference in the sounds around him. Tony put the old pair back into the case he had carried this new invention in, closed it and handed it to Clint. "Ha? Better? Yes?" He asked in anticipation.

"Different." Clint said eyeing him, still feeling out the difference in sound and sensation.

"They have different settings given the environment so you can tune into what you need to. Tune out what will blow what's left of your impaired ear drums." Stark explained.

"So what's the setting if I don't want to hear you congratulating yourself on a job well done?" Barton inquired.

"Hilarious." Stark replied. "You should do stand-up. Really." He said as he walked away. "Test drive the merchandise. Get back to me after a few days."

Meanwhile Bobbi was jogging along on a treadmill in the communal fitness space. Clint watched the discomfort in her face as Tony's fancy gadgets monitored her vitals, O2, heart-rate etc. It was only recently Clint found about about the removal of a portion of her lung and the issues she had had rehabbing her knee.

They had shared "war" stories about their times apart. How she and Lance had worked with what they thought was SHIELD and how they had dealt with their share of inhumans. Clint discussed being unable to properly "retire" as every time he tried the Avengers went and did something stupid and then when he tried to save their collective bacon they managed to get him in trouble somehow.

Tony took offense to this. He also kept reminding Bobbi that he was now "off the market" and she would be in a world of trouble if Pepper caught the other woman mentally undressing him the way she was. Have she no decency? Bobbi rolled her eyes so hard Clint was pretty sure she saw the back of her own skull... at the very least her brain.

Clint ignored him and continued to do his best to get Bobbi's mind off of doubting herself in training and conditioning. He didn't let his ears or injuries hold him back. She shouldn't let hers either. If anything those experiences made her stronger.

After leaving Tony's place they picked out a place to stop for a bite. "C'mon so where did you vacation?" He asked her as they picked over an early dinner. Bobbi smiled as she picked through her dressed up salad and savored the grilled chicken.

"It was really more like 'Hey! How many countries and borders do we have to cross before we lose our 'tail'?" She offered with a laugh watching him cut into his Stromboli.

"If you ever need a new neutral zone I hear Wakanda is pretty forgiving." He offered her.

"Yeah I read about T'Challa. I'm sorry to hear about his loss." She added. "That whole thing was a mess. The Accords and everything that followed..."

"Which is exactly why I can't retire. Things like that happen!" Clint said. "Tony and Steve get into fights. There's kids that shoot webs! We all get locked up in floating prisons.." He didn't even want to get into the mess that was getting out and being able to return stateside.

"Just another day at the office." Bobbi said like it was nothing. "How's Laura and the kids?" She asked.

"Great now that Barney's home and I don't have to cover for him anymore." Clint said. Granted... with the exception of Nat... the Team thought Laura was his wife and that was his farm and his family. In reality, Laura had been in protective custody under SHIELD and the FBI and Clint was assigned to helping her establish a new life. He was there go to for so many things. What no one bet on was Clint's older brother (Barney) hitting it off with Laura and becoming a part of that new life. So really Clint was just good ol' "Uncle Clint" to Cooper, Lila, and Nathaniel the "Traitor".

Clint's family consisted of his Team and his Dog, Lucky that he had both rescued and adopted. Lucky was likely anxiously waiting at home for Clint... or passing the time by pulling pizza crust out of the trash bin.

"Yeah Barney's finally taking time off and working on the homestead which means I go back to my life and you get to benefit from my generosity." Clint said. "I'm sleeping in my OWN bed tonight by the way."

"I never said you couldn't. I can't help that I fell asleep watching Die Hard for the 500th time." Bobbi said innocently.

"Yeah but you CAN help smacking me in the head while you "sleep"." Clint grumbled.

"I'm a very active dreamer. What do you want?" Bobbi shrugged, again "innocently".

Despite getting her ice-toes in the mornings, Clint had to admit he liked having Bobbi around. She kept the mood light and kept his mind off the places it always naturally wanted to go to. Plus it didn't hurt that Lucky adored her as much as he adored his owner and she always started the coffee for him in the mornings. Precious nectar of life!

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	3. 3: Home Is

The sink ran with a bluish gray tinge to the water. She rinsed her hair until it ran clear in the warm water, squeezing it periodically. After the sink was cleaned and her ends were carefully snipped, Natasha began towelling dry her hair. No longer the shade of red she was known for, but a blonde so platinum it was almost silver. She swept and depositted the clippings into the composter and returned to the spare room. The storm was softer tonight and she had put on an old record from Logan's small collection.

A little Sam Cooke suited her mood as she studied her blank expression in the mirror as she continued towelling off the foreign looking hair attached to her head. Her eyes drifted slowly down to a small photograph tucked into the base corner of the mirror's frame.

In it was a slightly less world wary Clint Barton, mid to late twenties perhaps, his arm hooked around the pale guarded expression of a girl. Long red hair in her face, her eyes somehow sad or maybe just untrusting still. She looked somehow too old and too young at the same time.

Sometimes she still wasn't sure why he made a different call than what he had been ordered to do. He had always answered her when she asked him why, but she had a hard time accepting it. Maybe because she was out of time or maybe because she didn't think she had been worthy of second chances.

She tossled and patted her hair as Sam Cooke serenaded her in the background, she felt more than heard Logan's restless movements in the cabin. He was staring out into the white swirl beyond the windows when she rejoined him. "Whatever's coming next. It's big. Ain't it?" He said before turning towards her. She looked back at him quietly.

"Sensing something?" She asked flatly.

"Something bigger than the usual." That was saying a lot, Nat knew. It was never as simple as a spy stealing some intel anymore. It was almost always cosmic.

"I don't if I'm ready for another world threatening event.." The Russian Avenger confessed.

"Think it might be smart to strap in anyway, kid." A burly arm draped itself over her shoulders. The storm continued to whip and swirl beyond the glass. The dance of the snow caught up in the shifting currents lulled her as she settled in that night.

/

Metallic gold fingers curled into a fist as light danced off gems accenting each knuckle of a powerful hand. What threat were mere mortals when it came to the movement of time? The green glint washed Widow's vision in a wash of emerald light. She felt him wrap himself around her body tightly and gradually his hold began to weaken. She was almost ignorant of the strength and vitality dwindling in her own body as she dropped to her knees with the Archer. All she could see was the rapid age and decay of his physical body as he tried to protect her.

"It's okay." He said strangely calm as his blue gaze filmed over, his hair grayed and thinned, body seemed to shrivel to her horror. He began to crumble, fall away into dust and ash in arthritic hands she didn't recognize as her own.

The sneer of the purple skinned creature turned to a smirk as he opened his hand fully in her direction and as the light blinded Natasha she jerked upright in bed in a frigid sweat feeling like she couldn't breathe.

Logan's warm rough hands couldn't settle her.

"I have to go home." She said in a rasp. The mutant tilted his head at her and then he seemed to understand what home was.

It wasn't a destination. It was wherever he was.

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	4. 4: Breathing Underwater

She was half certain that the murmurs and hums wafting whisper quiet through the speakers were that of a Russian lullaby. It wasn't Peggy's area of expertise, but she was intrigued by the wavy head of red that always seemed conveniently facing away from every camera carefully hidden in the observation room.

Carter wasn't surprised by the unaffected reaction the teen had to a gilded cage. It seems she must have been quite accustom to them by her young age. She heard the familiar sound of the young man's fingers scraping over his unruly hair in a physical representation of his fascination and confusion over his former target and his current status for breaking an order.

Luckily for the Hawk, he only broke Fury's direct orders. Director Carter still outranked Agent Fury by several levels within SHIELD.

"Is there something I can assist you with Agent Barton?" Peggy asked as she continued to study the monitors and the glimpses of the girl's face. A strong nose, a pout that was cold and not sad or sympathetic. Careful eyes. Green perhaps. Rail thin frame that would quickly go from a bare sapling to a full bloom.

"Oh Nah." Said the young man as if he forgot why he wandered in... like he didn't realize he had to badge in to enter... Guy was just out for a little stroll. "I thought you might be ready me to give you my report directly or maybe you had a new assignment for me."

"Mm that's quite ambitious of you given your recently sustained injuries." Peggy said turning to look at him. She sure didn't look 78 if you asked Clint. But maybe that was an English thing or something. Elder, distinguished lady from across the pond who could probably still hand him his ass if she had to.

"Guy's gotta stay busy.." Barton offered, hand in his hair again.

"Yes we don't want those hands idle." Peggy decided. "They get you into trouble enough." She smiled and he smiled back in relief.

/

"F.R.I.D.A.Y.?" Tony tapped the touch screen. "Run winter battleground scenario #138."

"Yes Sir."

Clint watched the cavernous, mostly empty room begin to be overwritten by a light grid, mapping over blank surfaces, hanging ropes, suspended platforms, and so on until it began to take form, shape and color. He found himself in a winter landscape that felt utterly real right down to the snowflakes falling on his cheeks and lashes.

"Now remember people. This is an 'every man for themselves' scenario." Tony said into their earpieces. In another section of the training grounds Bobbi twirled her batons slowly studying the woods around her. "There will be simulated attacks and attacks from the others as you cross paths." Wanda's face lit with a soft red glow as she rolled and stretched her fingers ready for some attack where she stood in a deep valley near a half frozen stream. "Think capture the flag. Individual. No teams." Tony's voice went on. Sam clapped his hands before rubbing them together and put his goggles on. "Winner takes all." Scott Lang was pumped and talking to himself. He had no idea that Peter Parker was watching him from a tree branch high above him. "Losers buy dinner." Tony said.

"3, 2, 1..." Explosions started going off all around them, gunfire, shouting. The sounds of battle were everywhere as each individual sprang into action in their individual locations. This was as much a strength, conditioning, and training exercise as it was a test for new tech Tony never seemed to stop working on.

Banner had said he had to start sleeping more, but what did that guy know? He had anger issues he wasn't exactly dealing with. Or maybe that's where he was? Off working out the issues... Whatever. Wherever you are... Deal with your own baggage, Bruce... and stop ALWAYS agreeing with Pepper while you're at it.

Tony's face was awash in the glow of the monitors and the giant window that allowed him to oversee the "world" below but kept him and the control room obscured. He'd set up a great little mock up like this for a guy named Chuck in Westchester County. Stark preferred to correspond long distance and occasionally sent Happy to go deal with in person concerns and fixes.

It wasn't the big fuzzy blue guy or the dork with the crappy visor that bugged Tony Stark. It was Chuck and his all-knowing gaze. Tony's dislike of Psychics trumped Happy's crappy poker face around Mutant kids so Tony gave Hap a raise for facing his fear of saying or doing the wrong thing around a school full of hormonal in-humans.

The Professor always made sure his right hand man returned in one piece. Tony made sure the X-Mansion had whatever it might need. The Avengers could only do some much. The world was a big place... and the universe was even bigger. Infinite, some might say.

Anyway... back to the floor show. "Think Morse would be offended if you dressed up like her for me next Halloween?" Tony asked feeling Pepper settle into his side, hand on his stomach.

"Yes." Was Pott's flat reply.

"I dunno. I think it's a good option for the Annual All Hallow's Eve Stark Extravaganza." He said watching the lanky blonde take cover from enemy fire and a stray web blast. Pepper heard a murmured "So close, kid." As Peter swung by and flipped through the air and into another canopy of pine needles.

Pepper smiled. She knew they would never admit it, but she sort of felt like Peter and Tony had kind of needed each other. They didn't as much anymore, but there was a familial affection there that Pepper found to be sweet.

Sam soared by the viewing deck rattling the outermost layer of glass as a red energy curled around his ankle and threw him off course. "Not cool Wanda!"

"Every man for themselves, Sam." Wanda replied as she physically matched and moved with her kinetic manipulations. Tony dropped his arm around Pepper's waist as he looked from each monitor, assessing vitals on each participant. "You heard Tony."

"At least somebody listens to me." Tony said as he and Pepper stood by observing.

Below them Clint hit his back and kept rolling until Bobbi was the one beneath him in the snow. They were locked in hand to hand. Her batons and his nightstick, both determined not to allow the other to get in a hit. He could practically hear Wanda in his head reminding him not to pull punches when Bobbi viciously snapped at his wrist causing him to drop the nightstick and allowing her to wriggle loose and kick him off her. He really couldn't help himself. He snapped open his bow and produced an arrow following the girls retreat. He let the arrow fly and took off after her only to slam chin first into the snow.

Something tripped him...

He looked down to see sticky webbing around his ankles and feet.

"Sorry Mr. Barton." A red and blue blur swung by.

"Clint. It's just Clint, kid." He said groaning.

"Right Clint, so sorry Clint." The spider-man said as he swung out of sight.

"Come on Legolas, don't make us distinguished Gentlemen look slow down there." Tony said in his ears.

"I'm not distinguished Tony." Clint said cutting the webbing off his ankles with a knife he hid in his arm guard before pulling himself upright again.

"Oh right. Former FAKE Farmer with a new rock n' roll hair cut." Tony replied. "Very hip."

An arrow clattered off the thick glass in front of Tony's face, specifically the spot between his eyes making him blink hard. Pepper smiled and patted his shoulder. "I'm going to go make sure the dinner reservations are in order."

"I'm not in the game. I'm the Dungeon Master." Tony called over his shoulder.

"Be that as it may, Dungeon Master, I'm pretty sure you're going to be picking up the tab tonight." Pepper offered warmly as she let herself out.

/

"And then I was like "THWIP! THWIP! And the Archer goes down and before I knew it I was narrowly missing the Spy because she's way better at avoiding the webshooters-"

"That was a pretty great save Wanda." Scott said as he passed the garlic bread down the table.

"I'd rather not have you injured if it's avoidable Scott." She said gently ladling some soup into her bowl.

"But girl's got no problem whipping me around like a rag doll, but please by all means save Tic-Tac's bacon." Sam grumbled as he plopped a pile of ziti onto his plate. The Parmesan dispenser floated over to Sam as a peace offering. Sam eyeballed Wanda suspiciously, but took it and began raining cheese down on his entree. Bobbi chuckled and Clint smiled as he uncapped a couple beers for them.

Italian had been decided on and naturally Tony did nothing small if he was paying so it was a veritable feast. Peter was talking through a mouth full of pasta and Vis did his best to follow the young man's heroic re-telling of their day of training exercises. He didn't eat exactly, or need to eat, but he did enjoy how they gathered for meals from time to time.

Time spent together was very important for team building, morale, and trust. Although lately there were always the obvious missing elements to the group. They were accustomed to the comings and goings of the Asgardian and the Panther of course had a kingdom to Rule over. But there were more grieved over absentees.

As often as Tony mentioned or thought about Banner, the truth was that Bruce had been missing since Sokovia when the Big Guy went down on the Quinjet to parts unknown.

The Captain had disappeared after his battle with Stark over the fate of the Soldier. (For others at the table? After he sprung them from a floating prison..)

And perhaps most sorely missed... at least by one of their company... was the Widow. Vis had noticed that after the events following the accords the Russian Avenger had become a Ghost to them. Even while others were mysteriously released and exonerated. Even when a mystery letter arrived for Tony from Steve or they just assumed Banner was back to doing what he did before until he was truly needed... Romanoff was in the wind and radio silent.

For his part, Clint fulfilled his role to the group, to Wanda, to Ms. Morse, all while concealing a troubling emotional wound with the passing of each day that there was no hint of his long time partner's return.

Vision thought he might understand what that could feel like. He was fairly certain that he too would experience a similar pain if something were to become of Wanda and he had no way to verify her well-being.

The table erupted with laughter over a dry little one liner from Mr. Lang and as Clint glanced around him, he met Vision's gaze, the being nodded and smiled at him. Clint returned the nod before turning back to Bobbi Morse with a smirk as she smacked him in the shoulder about something that had Sam rolling with mirth.

/

It had been a solid end to a long day, Bobbi ate two dishes of chocolate mousse before chasing it with 3 more beers and Clint smiled as she snored softly. He had put her to bed, wrapped her up like a blanket burrito. Nightstand equipped with water, pain relievers and waste basket just in case. She wasn't a light weight but you never knew.

The world went noise-less as he removed his hearing aids. He gave Lucky a scratch on the head and pat on the side on his way to the shower. The hot water steamed up the washroom pleasantly for him as he ditched his clothes. He felt a few new aches that were going to melt under the hot spray of the water, he hoped. He felt the pleasant little smack of each drop of water as he let himself check out for a moment.

He didn't start consider washing until he was sufficiently toasty, but to his confusion the soap wasn't sitting where it had been a moment ago. He stilled himself as he felt it glide over his shoulder blades.

Time out.

Was he going to have to see to a buzzed Bobbi and escort her out of his shower, towel wrapped and stumbling? Blubbering about Ex and just needing some closeness... He was prepared to say something, sighing, eyes rolling as he caught a hint of blonde out of the corner of his vision.

He blinked, dumb struck as he turned and looked down at Natasha who was suddenly there. Okay... was he the drunk one tonight? She looked back up at him and reached up, bar of soap in one hand and began lathering up the longer-than-usual mop of sandy hair on his head. And then felt along the sides of his skull, hair buzzed off short and close to his skin.

Barton blinked again, slowly watching her face as she studied him in return. He took in what she was doing, a good hard scrub against his scalp that felt so good to him and then the gentler touches to follow, traces of old scars and new stubble. Clearly the steam had gotten to him because he was going to wake up with a concussion while Lucky lapped his face to death in an effort to revive his owner.

Nimble fingers raked their way through his hair as it was washed clean and slid down to his neck, to his shoulders and then settled on his chest, her gaze falling with them. Clint realized, maybe only just now that her usual red hair was hidden away by a silvery blonde shade he had never seen before. Even her brows were lighter. She almost looked like a totally different person, but... not really. He wasn't sure he liked it, but he was so relieved to be seeing her he didn't care if he was having a weird ass dream.

She inched closer and folded herself in against his chest, skin warm, soft and VERY real. She tucked her head under his chin and her cheek grazed his chest as he wrapped his arms around her curves protectively, possessively, afraid to lose her in the stuttering of his heartbeat. She pulled her face back up to his and plush lips grazed his as if searching for something. It was familiar and grounding for them both. He pressed her closer to him feeling the flat of her stomach. It was greeted by pressure and pleasant friction that was both pure torture and absolute elation to him.

He pulled her up in his arms, pushed her against the tile as her legs drew up and spread enough to wrap themselves around the small of his back and buttocks and thigh as she initiated, positioning herself and nudging him within with a soft jab of her heel on his spine. It was nearly impossible not to lose it as he buried himself within her and felt her clench all around him in response. He began remembering their familiar rhythm and how strong she was. How in control she was until she wasn't anymore.

She stopped directing him with little motions of looks, hands, lips, heels. She urged him to take over and he thrust into her over and over again as she dug her fingers into his back and shoulders. Breath fast, labored near his ear.

He wasn't sure how long they were in there entangled together like that, but he knew he came more than once. So did she as they shifted in speed, position and tempo until he was tired for much better reasons than before and the water ran ice cold. He turned off the spray, trembling as he fumbled for a towel after draping her in his ratty purple robe. He wrapped his arms around her studying their foggy reflections in the mirror.

Natasha leaned back against him, hand going up to cradle his neck as they stared at each other's reflection across the counter. His eyes were so full of questions, but she had no interest in talking tonight. She didn't want to think and she wanted to forget her night terrors altogether.

She didn't want to see him fade away so she kept staring at his questioning expression and felt along his warm skin for reassurance. He's alive. He's real and he's still here. Even when she hadn't been. He remained the steadfast Archer. The guy that pulled everything together for her.

He smiled a little at her as she pulled his hand to her lips kissing it and laying it against her chest before letting go, turning back into the warmth of skin to skin contact.

If she had a home to speak of, this was definitely it.


End file.
